My Dad's Bestfriend

Chapter 257

Sienna

"Alex, you sure there aren't any..." I swallowed, scanning the trees. The only light came from his phone's flashlight and, of course, that wasn't much. "Deadly animals around here?"

He chuckled. "Someone's chickening out, huh? Surprising for someone so mouthy all the time," He glanced at me, unbothered. The deeper we walked, the denser the trees became - it felt almost like another world, though I'd never been to the A****n.

"I don't want to get mauled by a tiger or a bear," I shot back. Practical panic sounded worse. I should have just said— I was scared of being alone with him.

"This isn't a jungle, Sienna." He sounded amused. "It's just acres of land left to grow for decades. The most you'd find are chipmunks, maybe a fox or two - a few snakes, but not venomous."

"How can I trust you on that?"

"Look how you're clutching my arm." He paused, eyes drifting to where my hand looped around his sleeve like a lifeline — which, embarrassingly, it was. "Right now I'm the only person you trust." He turned his face toward mine, amusement softening the edges.

This man never failed to get on my nerves!

I yanked my hand back. "It was a reflex. Don't read into it."

"You're paranoid for nothing," he said, and before I could protest he took my hand again and pulled me through the woods. My objections died on the path of his grin.

Minutes later a chalet rose from the trees — lights blazing, warm and impossibly picturesque. For a second my mouth fell open. The place looked like a postcard: two stories, balconies that dipped toward the lake, every window glowing. Why in the damn hell someone build something so beautiful away from people's attention? It looked like a hideaway.

"My god, this is...pretty." I whispered. "But shit! The lights are on. We can't just—what if someone calls the police?"

"Lights are on because a worker comes by. Nobody's here now. Trust me." He kicked the door and stepped inside, as casual as if he'd been invited.

"Are you stalking the owners?" The thought was ridiculous and somehow inevitable. He'd stalked me—It wouldn't be surprising if he stalked other people as well.

He turned and shot me one of those looks. "Flower," he said, and for the first time in a while, he sounded like someone else entirely, "I am the owner."

"What the—" Before I could finish, he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. We stepped inside and he flicked switches; light flooded the rooms. My jaw dropped.

This wasn't the cold, clinical place I expected from Alexander Grayson. It was homey. Open stairs led to the second floor; plush white sofas made the living room look lived-in. The kitchen was neat with a woman's touch — jars lined up, a small vase of flowers. The dining table sat four, not the huge, ostentatious set I'd imagined. On the wall above the couch hung a family portrait: two children and a couple. For a moment the faces blurred until I recognized the messy hair and a pair of blue eyes—his.

"That's you, isn't it?" I stepped closer, smiling despite myself. He looked almost adorable there, not the menace I'd come to know.

"The eyes give it away, don't they?" He stood behind me, hands in his jeans pockets, but there was something softer in his voice.

"The smile too." I tilted my head, memorizing the boy in the picture. "Always had a devilish curve."

He chuckled. "An artist's eyes. Can't fault that."

child. Different hair, brown eyes Alex's deep blue. "Is

a clear contrast to

onto the sofa before moving into the kitchen. "What do you want

seen you with your brother." I followed, watching him open cabinets like

stiffened, a small thing only I would've noticed, fingers pausing over a knife. He knew the house intimately which suggested he'd been here a lot. Alone the thought alone

sighed and

hundred, but asking them felt wrong. He tried for indifference and

-

in front of

said, stepping close while he pulled a cutting board from the drawer, the knife glinting under the kitchen

the one and only thing my dad left for me," he said flatly, as if putting the knife into the wound would make it smaller. "So I keep it like it was. That's all." The plainness of his words made it evident how it hurt although he didn't let a single drop of the

vanished

he'd abandoned them. Since then, anyone who touched that subject got a broken nose or worse. The violence began there. Pieces of the story I'd never

are you cooking?" I hopped up onto the counter, watching him move around the kitchen.

I decided for you – your favorite, Aglio e olio." He dropped spaghetti into the

know?" I asked, surprised

how the kitchen held every ingredient, neat jars and a vase with

laugh escaped me. "I can't with my

grateful. He'd kill for you."

into the counter comfortably despite the heat and proximity, he was right beside me and here we were talking and sitting side by side as if we'd

laughed. "I

is not a sane thing to

he drained the pasta and transferred it to a bowl. He was so neat with

what do you give a fuck

let the word hang, then

watched him cook. Whatever Alex did, he did with a focus that bordered on possession. Right now that focus was ruining my

bit the inside of my cheek,

to tear out of me: What do you want from me? He couldn't possibly be serious I was only another conquest a story

belongs to s

from the stove crept through the room. I gathered my hair into a messy bun, a soft sound leaving

few pieces escaped and

turned off the tap, then the stove - everything

and the

Predatory. Intent.

watched, doe eyed as he ended up stepping between my knees. "What? Are you...are you done with the—" I froze as his hips slid against mine and the contact sent a tremor through me. A small, involuntary moan slipped out. My

breathed, voice low. One hand slipped beneath my crop top effortlessly, fingers exploring

to push him away evaporated; instead I